


makes me feel like I can’t live without you

by echoesofstardust



Series: it takes me all the way (i want you to stay) [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Celestial Imagery, F/M, Wedding Rings, love stories (of more than one kind)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoesofstardust/pseuds/echoesofstardust
Summary: Two times Scott picks a ring.





	makes me feel like I can’t live without you

**Author's Note:**

> This is the companion piece to 'tell me now you know'. When I heard about the supposed news, the idea for this fic came to me. I hadn't intended for there to be a Scott-centric piece but here we are.
> 
> As always, while inspired by real life T and S, this piece of writing is fictional. But if you'd like to join me in another little universe, I'd love to have your company. 
> 
> Title of the fic is from 'Stay'.
> 
> Thanks as always to the OLC. Love you all, you inspire me every day.
> 
> To all of my readers, I hope you're having a wonderful day. Take care, be kind <3

** _ With _ **

He calls Tessa with one sentence. “T, I think I’m going to ask her.”

(She answers with a nod before remembering he couldn't see her. “Oh! That's—that's great!" She smiles before her heart could ache.) 

"Could you...could you help me pick the ring?" He knows she’s worked with jewellery before, has an idea what all the terminology and jargon means. He trusts her judgment. He trusts she’ll stop him before he’ll impulsively buy something and she’ll help him believe in himself when he’s doubting.

There's a pause before she replies. "Of course! When do you want to go?" 

On the day that they eventually agree on, conversation between them ebbs and flows on the way, the quietness as soothing to him as the sound of her voice as she's narrating everything that she's been up to. 

Jewellery stores are always overly bright and crammed with rows and columns of glass displays, twinkling gems catching the already dazzling light. It doesn't take long for him to feel overwhelmed. He slows down his steps once he's made it past the entrance. 

Tessa glances at him, smiling softly. She walks beside him to the person behind the counter, but stops just slightly behind his shoulder. He takes that as his cue to speak. 

"Hi, I'm looking to buy an engagement ring."

The boy looks back and forth between him and Tessa, something like confusion overtaking his features. "Uh, forgive me sir, but usually people don't bring their gir—" 

"Oh!" Tessa squeaks. "No, no. It's not for me. It's definitely not—" She swallows. "Not for me."

The boy turns a deep shade of red. "I'm sorry.” He coughs. “Would—would you like to have a look at what we have? We have a range of bands and cuts and additional designs to choose from and I'm sure you'll find one you'll like." He takes out a tray and places it on the glass counter. "I'll let you have a look.”

He hears Tessa murmur something to the flustered boy. He watches her offer him a comforting smile, crack a joke to ease the tension. Her delivery is getting better. He wants to reach over to squeeze her hand but stops himself. 

His train of thought diverts to the decision he needs to make today. He can't form any words as he's staring at all the rings. How will he know what's the right one? 

He turns to Tessa. He notices she’s biting back a smile at what must be a terrified look on his face. 

“What about that one?” She points to a diamond ringed with tiny blue sapphires. “It matches her eyes.”

It’s exquisite and beautiful and something utterly special—but it doesn’t feel right. Not for who he intends to give it to. “No.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to shake snow from his hair.

She hums, narrows her eyes a little and tilts her head. “Do you have anything in mind?”

He doesn’t. He tries to picture a ring on her finger and he can’t see anything clearly, not like he used to with—

—no. He can’t go there. It’s a dream from a different time and place, a different him and a different her. He’s promised himself he can only love her in the way (he thinks) she wants him to. He feels sick at the thought of resenting her just because he can't ask her to give him all his dreams, not when she’s already given him so much.

So much time. So much pain. And so much love.

She’s always loved him as a best friend and as a partner. Just because it’s not the same in that final way he _ used to _ want to love her doesn’t mean she’s loved him any less.

“No, I don’t,” he chokes out. He feels something panicky bubble up his chest. Suddenly, he feels like he’s not enough, like he’s a child pretending to be someone grown. He knows he’s been working hard to make the life he wants to live and is proud of living. He loves his work and his career. He’s poured so much of himself into building a relationship with someone and he _ loves _ her. He doesn’t doubt that. He loves her more than he’s loved any of his other girlfriends.

(He can’t quite say he’s loved her more than he’s ever loved anyone. There’s his family for instance. And of course there’s—)

She holds his hand. “Shhh…it’s okay. Scott, it’s okay. It’s just me.” She lifts her hand like she’s going to cup his jaw. He’s started to lean into where he expects her touch but it doesn’t come. He watches her fingers curl inwards into her palm, her hand lowering to hang at her side. 

“Does it make me a bad person?”

“That you can’t picture the ring? No, of course not.” She pauses like she’s mulling over her next words. “You love her, right?”

“Yes.” He answers without hesitation.

“Then that’s more than enough. Whatever ring you pick is special because it’s you who’s giving it to her.”

He nods. There will always be something about Tessa’s belief in him that makes him want to believe in himself. He can’t imagine a life without her in it. He takes a deep breath and takes a second look at the rings on display, not allowing any pressure to cloud his decision.

He settles on one that catches his eye. It looks a lot like the ones surrounding it but if he chooses it, then that is the one bit that makes all the difference. It’s pretty enough anyhow. He can see it on her finger if he concentrates hard enough and gives himself enough time.

“I like that one.”

Tessa’s always been good at schooling a neutral expression. Except in front of him. It’s both a blessing and a curse, but after more than two decades spent together he notices the small eyebrow raise and the sucked-in bottom lip that give away what she’s feeling.

“Don’t you like it?” He probes.

“No, no! I do! Just...don’t you think it’s a little...generic?” She bites her lip like she wants to take back what she’s said. “I know what I said before but...I just thought maybe you’d want something a little more, um, unique for her.”

“I like it.” He’s digging in his proverbial heels and he feels worse. He doesn’t want to argue with Tessa. 

“I’m sorry,” is what he says eventually.

“No, no, don’t be sorry.” She steps back on her back foot, the space between them widening. “Do you think it’s the one you’re gonna buy?”

He nods once, twice slowly. Then again a little quicker. “I think so.”

She smiles. “Then I think you’ve found your ring.”

“_We’ve _ found ou—my—the ring.” He nearly used the wrong pronoun. It’s not theirs because it’s not—

—it’s not hers.

He finds the courage to look at her after his stutter. She’s studying him. Not like a textbook before a final exam, with stress and wanting to just pass. Not like a contemporary piece in an art museum, like she doesn’t quite know what the artist is depicting but she respects and admires the way they’ve made her feel.

She studies him like he’s her night sky. There’s stories in his constellations, stories she made up herself, stories he told her and her alone. Yet there’s that bit where her eyes don’t reach because she’s too far away. She knows there’s more she doesn’t know but she doesn’t know how to find out.

She pulls him in close, hugs him tighter than what he can ever remember, like she’s holding onto something she’s already lost.

He’s forgotten the way she makes him feel. To be with her is like letting go of a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“I’m so happy for you, Scott. You’re—you’re doing so well. All your dreams are coming true.”

“Thanks T.” He presses his nose against her neck.

(Her tears cling to her eyelashes. She refuses to let them fall. If they did, they’d glisten like small stars on the black expanse of his shirt.)

–

** _ Without _ **

He goes alone this time. He chooses a custom jeweller, someone who can make the ring he has in mind. He'd researched a few different ones wanting to only use the best of the best and he believes this is the place. 

He thinks back to the first time he'd bought a ring, when he'd asked her to come with him. After their moonlit conversation, where they'd finally, finally shared everything they've ever felt, he's realised how much she was hurting that day. It hurt to understand that he was the cause of it. 

But he needed to accept that he'd done that, that he'd hurt her, before they could move forward and heal what they shared between them. They both needed to work on their honesty so they could trust each other, to accept the love that the other wanted to give. They both just needed to be a little braver.

And now, he’s here.

The first appointment is just a consultation. The jeweller's name is Pietro, and he's an Italian craftsman who's said to be one of the best in the business. 

When he meets Pietro, he knows he's found the man who he’s looking for. Adorned with a shock of salt-and-pepper hair and a curling grey moustache, as well as insisting on a hug from the first meeting, Pietro's stellar reputation as a specialist engagement ring jeweller is not unfounded. The charming man exudes warmth and affection and joy—not surprisingly, it must seep into his creations that are meant to embody these exact things. 

"Now, Scotty," (His usually loathed nickname coming from Pietro sounds so much like his father saying it that Scott doesn't correct him.) "Tell me about your special girl." There's a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye. 

Scott grins. The way he's smiling feels almost uncontrollable, like he's got so much happiness inside of him, a champagne bottle waiting to pop. At the same time, he feels level-headed and calm, certain in his decision.

“She’s...” How does he begin to describe her? How does he say what part of her he loves the most? Her eyes, her laugh, her heart, her soul. The way she shines brighter than any other star in his sky, and he’ll never be able to believe it that he’s now the lucky one who gets to hold her hand. “She’s my best friend.”

“Ahhh...I see. You know, my wife was my best friend too?” Pietro has a sketchpad and a pencil. Scott is mesmerised by the confident, sure strokes that he’s making on the page, like a skater on ice.

“Yeah?” He loves a good love story. He’s sure Pietro’s is going to be a good one.

“Si! Yes! I met her when I was very, very little. We grew up together.”

“Childhood sweethearts?”

“Oh no! Just best friends for the longest time...although she was my first kiss.” Pietro winks at him. “She was there for me for a lot of the good and even more of the bad. She was my strength when I had none. When I first wanted to open my own business, so many people had doubt. But never her.”

“She must be someone really special, eh?”

“She really is. I did not realise I was in love with her for a long time. You have someone that special and you don’t want to do anything to ruin it. I was scared. I...married someone else first.”

“You what?!” Scott’s aware he sounds like a kid listening to his grandfather’s stories, surprised by a plot twist everyone else could see coming.

“I did.” Pietro nods. “She was a good woman. I did love her, I’m sure. Just not in the same way as I loved my Maria. It’s like a drop compared to the ocean, no? Like a star compared to the universe. Something concrete compared to something infinite.”

Scott nods. He understands.

“I should have known something was wrong when I sat down to design the engagement ring for my first wife and I could not picture anything. Me! A jeweller! I had to buy it from a store, but I went far away from where I lived because I felt so embarrassed.”

Scott has to laugh at Pietro’s retelling, with his exaggerated hand gestures and facial expressions. He turns serious though. “How did you—how did you find your way?”

“Back home? I just had to listen to my heart.” He taps his pencil on the sheet, tilting the page this way and that. “It was much, much easier to see the ring I wanted to give my Maria. My hand knew the moment I started to draw. Maybe my hand and my heart knew from the moment we met, but my head was too much of a coward to listen.”

“But you had your happy ending, right?”

“Oh my boy, there is no such thing as a happy ending.”

Scott’s shocked into silence. “Wha—what do you mean?”

“I married Maria, yes, but that was not the end. It is a journey, no? Happiness cannot be your destination. It has to be part of your everyday. And the ending...the ending is always sad.” Pietro rubs his chest with his left hand. Scott notices the point where his ring finger meets his knuckle touches the spot over his heart. “However long I had with my Maria...losing her is still the most painful thing that ever happened to me. She had my heart, you see? I hadn’t realised I’d given it to her on the day we first met. It’s belonged to her longer than it belonged to me.”

There are tears on both their faces. To see a soul and see that they know what you have been through is something wholly indescribable. Pietro pats Scott’s cheek. “We are the same, are we not? In love with women who we think we don’t deserve, but would wallop us hard for thinking that?”

Scott throws his head back laughing. “Yes. Si!”

Pietro laughs along with him, clapping his shoulder. “Well, time to keep on working on your ring! Tell me, what colour are her eyes?”

“Green, gorgeous green.” The answer’s subconscious at this point. “Could you...add something that matches them?”

Pietro shows Scott his sketch, pointing to where smaller stones flank the central diamond. “I was thinking here?”

Scott reaches out to graze the sketch with his fingertips. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> (yes, I promise I'm working on the epilogue to 'you make me dream of you', but thank you for indulging me in some stories that just needed to be written <3)


End file.
